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Array ( [sid] => 143025 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Paranoid [time] => 2008-06-07 05:30:08 [hometext] => [bodytext] => Roughly two years ago, I became paranoid
When all of the innocent passersby
Were ushered, deployed
Under the scything sabre
Of thy neighbor.
Saw deserts out the back door
That far cried of retribution trouncing amour,
Dry and lofty kings, and wealthy Arabs,
And convoys still circling, like senile scarabs
At their evolutionary dusk.
Deserts so dry, so arid
You could, indeed, sell snow to the Eskimos,
Yet not market this grain as a musk.
On our television sets arose
A permanent fuzz -- and on our radios --
And when I spotted sandals splayed propitiously on the rug,
I thought only: cursed scandals of the bug!
Indeed my brooch
Evoked the emblem of roach
And its despotic rampancy,
Despite the scuttling plea for nicety and fancy.
These troubles made it impossible to seize a saddle
Without my hands in a lurching rattle.
Yes, I was worried all the time, and I peered over my shoulder
At my horses out back, their shoes in solder
To the ground, lest they be kidnapped when found,
Yet, remarkably, still --
Many sang praise,
Salaries obliterated, hands in raise
With balloons gathered ‘round the mailbox
That shriveled like mines
(And disturbing shrines -- quiet household shrines).
Yes, a royal newborn was anointed
In a water-drape
On the dry landscape,
Unbecoming, yet appointed
To the invasion of gunfire torrents,
And he will not need warrants, any warrants!
To blast my windows open with that --
An ostensible baseball bat --
Clouting its leathery ammo
Beneath quiet suburban camo. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 155 [topic] => 64 [informant] => screwge [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => ambiguous )

Paranoid

Contributed by screwge on Saturday, 7th June 2008 @ 05:30:08 AM in AEST
Topic: ambiguous

Roughly two years ago, I became paranoid
When all of the innocent passersby
Were ushered, deployed
Under the scything sabre
Of thy neighbor.
Saw deserts out the back door
That far cried of retribution trouncing amour,
Dry and lofty kings, and wealthy Arabs,
And convoys still circling, like senile scarabs
At their evolutionary dusk.
Deserts so dry, so arid
You could, indeed, sell snow to the Eskimos,
Yet not market this grain as a musk.
On our television sets arose
A permanent fuzz -- and on our radios --
And when I spotted sandals splayed propitiously on the rug,
I thought only: cursed scandals of the bug!
Indeed my brooch
Evoked the emblem of roach
And its despotic rampancy,
Despite the scuttling plea for nicety and fancy.
These troubles made it impossible to seize a saddle
Without my hands in a lurching rattle.
Yes, I was worried all the time, and I peered over my shoulder
At my horses out back, their shoes in solder
To the ground, lest they be kidnapped when found,
Yet, remarkably, still --
Many sang praise,
Salaries obliterated, hands in raise
With balloons gathered ‘round the mailbox
That shriveled like mines
(And disturbing shrines -- quiet household shrines).
Yes, a royal newborn was anointed
In a water-drape
On the dry landscape,
Unbecoming, yet appointed
To the invasion of gunfire torrents,
And he will not need warrants, any warrants!
To blast my windows open with that --
An ostensible baseball bat --
Clouting its leathery ammo
Beneath quiet suburban camo.

Copyright Â© screwge ... [ 2008-06-07 05:30:08]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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